


That's What Friends Do

by katikat



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katikat/pseuds/katikat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years from now...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's What Friends Do

"So, what will you do now?" Peter asked after Neal's anklet was officially cut for the last time. It was a quiet occasion, just the two of them in Peter's office. Neal leaned down and rubbed his bare ankle. It felt strangely light.

"I don't know yet," he admitted and when he straightened, he smiled. "I think... I think I'll travel."

Peter narrowed his eyes. "Travel travel or travel travel?" he asked suspiciously.

Neal threw his head back and laughed. "Just travel, Peter, no shady business. I'm a changed man." When Peter didn't quit glaring, Neal's smile grew more gentle. "I mean it, Peter."

Peter looked at him a moment longer, then grumbled, "I hope so. I'm too old to chase you again."

Neal grinned. "Aww, Peter, don't sell yourself short. You're in your prime! Elizabeth's quite satisfied with your... performance of the... marital duties."

Peter groaned, closed his eyes and let his head drop. "Please, tell me you didn't discuss my love life with my wife?"

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, you... stallion," Neal assured him, mischievously.

Peter glared at him and Neal raised his hands in mock surrender. They both burst out laughing.

When Peter surpressed his laughter finally, he looked at Neal fondly. "Where will you go first?"

Neal shrugged, looking out of the window behind Peter's desk. "I don't know yet. Maybe... maybe I'll just board the first plane flying out of New York and see where it takes me. Or maybe I'll take the train and ride it where ever it goes. I really don't know."

"You don't have a plan yet? I thought that you would have your next step planned out in meticulous detail by now. You've had four years to think about it."

"I just want out of New York, Peter, I don't care where," Neal said, looking at him. "Four years I'd been cooped up in jail. And for the next four years, it was New York. I haven't left the city in eight years, Peter. Eight years!"

"Well, you had a two miles radius and we traveled the city every day for work, it's not exactly closed quarters," Peter remarked, voice heavy with irony.

"But it is," Neal answered earnestly. "It is when you can't leave. When you know that for the next four years you're forbidden to leave, even a cell the size of New York starts feeling claustrophobic and you can't breath. I just need out, out of my two miles radius, out of the city, out of the state. In here," he touched his temple, "I know that I'm free to go. In here," he touched his chest, "I still need convincing."

Peter nodded pensively. "Fair enough." After a moment, he asked: "What about our partnership?" His voice was guarded, not letting Neal know what he was thinking or feeling.

Neal smiled at him. It was an honest, open smile. "If you need my help, just call. You know my number. Call and I'll come. I promise."

Peter nodded again. They both knew that Peter would call and Neal would come. That's what friends did.

The End


	2. Former Keepers and Unlucky Charges

The first thing that Neal noticed when he woke up were voices, muffled voices, in the background. The next thing was pain - sharp and cutting, radiating from his left temple. It made his head throb and his stomach roll with nausea. He couldn't remember where he was and he was afraid to open his eyes, in case his head exploded.

Neal must have made a noise, probably a whimper, because there was a click and the voices fell silent - TV then. The thing he was lying on - a bed - dipped slightly to the right as someone sat down on it. Who...?

"You with us now?" The voice was soft as if the person - Peter, it was Peter! - knew exactly how much his head was hurting.

"Ughhh..." was all Neal could say. His throat was parched and his mouth felt fuzzy. A straw touched his lips and he sucked gratefully. It was withdrawn too soon, though, and Neal made a discontented noise.

There was a quiet sound as Peter set the cup aside. "Not too much at once. You'll make yourself sick."

Neal scrunched his brows, which made his head hurt even more, and then made the monumental effort to open his eyes. He went slow and the light hurt more than it should, even with the blinds closed. White ceiling, white walls, white, starched sheet - oh, a hospital.

"Okay?"

The fuzzy shadow looming above him slowly materialized into Peter. He looked worn and worried and slightly rumpled. Neal blinked slowly. "Head hurts," he rasped.

Peter smiled. "No wonder. You have a nasty bump there," he said. He raised his hand and ran his fingers gently over Neal's temple.

Neal didn't feel it at all. Bandage, then. That explained the dark thing looming in the corner of his left eye. "What hap'n?"

Peter's eyes flashed angrily. "Some drunk idiot broadsided the cab you were riding from the airport to your hotel. You hit your head pretty bad."

Frowning, Neal looked at the ceiling. "Don't rememb'. How long...?"

"It happened yesterday morning. You've been in and out of it for almost a day." Peter was still looking at Neal with a worried expression that was making Neal uncomfortable. Neal didn't like it when people worried about him.

"Why... you here?" Neal's thoughts were sluggish, like he was digging every one of them out of a vat of molasses.

Now Peter grinned. "You were pretty out of it when they brought you in. You kept insisting that they call me and tell me that you hadn't run." There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he added: "You know, I let you out of my sight for the first time in four years and this happens. Maybe I should just get you one of those 'If found, return to...' collars. It would be easier."

Neal blinked a couple of times. "Sorry," he croaked.

Peter let Neal take another sip of water. "For what?" he asked when he set the cup back on the table.

"Botherin' you."

Peter just smiled fondly and patted his hand. "No problem. What would former keepers be for if they couldn't rush across the country to aid their unlucky charges?" Then he grew serious. "You scared us, me and El both. When the hospital called and told us that you had been in a car accident and that you suffered a head injury..." He looked away.

Now it was Neal who patted Peter's arm clumsily. "Sorry."

Peter sighed. "Just... don't do it again, ok?"

"'Kay." Then Neal remembered something. "'cross the country? Where...?"

Frowning slightly, Peter responded: "San Francisco. You don't remember?"

Neal shook his head slightly, then winced as it made the pain worse. "No," he whispered. "'Member Miami." And Dallas before that. And Washington before that. And Seattle before that. His travel plans usually consisted of coming to the airport and choosing the first plane that was about to depart. The result was that it looked as if he was playing the "connect the dots" game, just on larger scale.

"Don't worry, the doctor said that you might not remember what happened before the accident. He should come by any minute now, I'm sure he'll tell you more," Peter assured him.

"'Kay. Stay?" Neal asked. He really didn't feel like dealing with doctors and nurses and who knew what else on his own now. And Peter was, well, Peter.

"Not going anywhere," Peter promised. "They gave away your room at the hotel when you didn't check in, so we'll have to find you something else after they release you, but it shouldn't be a..."

"Home," Neal interrupted him in a raspy voice.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Home. Want to go home."

"To New York?" Peter sounded surprised.

Neal wanted to nod, but thought better of it. "Yes."

"Are you sure? I mean, not that I don't want you back," Peter hastened to say. "But I thought you wanted to travel. And it's been only a couple of weeks." He paused, then he patted Neal's hand again soothingly. "Maybe we should talk about it once you don't feel like your head's going to fall off..."

Neal made a hmm-ing noise. He knew that he wouldn't change his mind. He remembered traveling being fun, but doing it alone felt... different, kind of lonely. He wanted to go home and eat El's lemon pie and go for a walk with June and work with Peter again.

Peter smiled at him and stood up. "I'll go see if I can find the doc. He'd been around all night and when you finally wake up, he's gone. Besides, your head must be killing you. Maybe he could give you something for that. And I need to call El and June and tell them that you're awake, they'll be both happy to hear that." He headed for the door, but when he opened it, he turned back and gave Neal a mock stern look. "Don't fall asleep!" he ordered.

Neal blinked at him again. "Won't," he promised and watched Peter go with a strange, warm feeling in his chest. He was going home.

The End


End file.
